EverRealm

Magic Training

While Birk rested with the others, Elora guided Cedric away from the camp, her steps light and quiet against the soft forest floor. "You have raw talent, especially for a first try with your upgraded wand" she said, her forest-green eyes flickering with mischief, "but your control is..." She waved her hand in a wobbly motion.

Cedric huffed, his grip on the wand tightening enough to make the crystal at its tip flicker faintly. "I'll have you know, I *am* the royal sorcerer of Enchancia—"

**Pffzt!**

A rogue spark shot sideways, striking a nearby bush. Flame erupted in a bright, angry pop before fizzling into smoke. Cedric froze, then discreetly nudged a patch of smoldering leaves with his foot, as if that might undo it.

Elora bit back a laugh, pressing a fist to her mouth. His flustered expression, the way his brows knit together in frustration—it was undeniably cute. "See?" she managed after a breath, gesturing at the smoldering bush. A few embers still glowed faintly, like tiny fireflies refusing to fade. "That's exactly what I mean."

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the newly upgraded wand, the crystal humming faintly under her touch. His grip tightened, defensive, but she only grinned. "You need practice. Unless," her tone softened, teasing, "you *want* to get knocked off your feet next time my sister attacks us."

Cedric scowled, the familiar stubborn pride flashing across his face. But then, just for a moment, his shoulders relaxed—a silent admission. "...Fine," he muttered.

Elora's smirk widened. "Come on. It'll be fun," she promised, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

Cedric huffed and lifted the wand, his fingers gripping it tighter than necessary. The crystal pulsed, but the light was jagged, flickering like a candle in the wind. Sparks spat out unevenly—one singed the cuff of his sleeve before fizzling into the dirt.

He scowled, squared his shoulders, and tried again—this time enunciating the incantation with razor-sharp precision. But the moment the words left his lips, the wand bucked violently in his grasp, twisting like a startled hare. A burst of raw magic flared—bright, untamed—before erupting in a chaotic **pop!** that left his ears ringing.

And again.** His jaw clenched hard enough to ache. *Why won't this blasted thing just obey?* He'd practiced spells for years—basic illusions, levitation, *proper* magic—But this? This wasn't proper magic. It was wild, unpredictable, like trying to rein in a storm with his bare hands.

Another strike, another spiral of sparks. One dissolved harmlessly. Another grazed a nearby sapling, leaving the bark charred in thin, curling stripes.

Visions of the last battle flitted through his mind: Vana's creatures surging forward, smoke and embers filling the air—and him, unprepared, his usual tricks too slow, too weak. His fingers twitched, knuckles whitening around the polished wood.

Elora watched, silent for once. The usual playful glint in her forest-green eyes had dimmed, replaced by quiet focus. She didn't tease, didn't smirk at the way Cedric's shoulders hunched stubbornly against the weight of his own frustration. Instead, she noted the stiff line of his back, the way his breaths came a fraction too quick—shallow, uneven. Not just irritation. Something sharper. *Fear.*

It was the same fear she'd glimpsed in the heat of battle, when the lava creatures had surged forward. Smoke and embers had filled the air—Sofia twisting out of the way just in time, Cedric's spells lagging, faltering. She remembered the way his hands had trembled as he'd raised his wand, the way his voice had cracked mid-incantation. Not just frustration. The deeper sting of helplessness—watching someone he cared about in danger and feeling his magic too sluggish, too *weak* to shield them. *Both of them.*